


First Hogswatch

by AceNettle



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Grand Sneer fic, Hogswatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9254438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceNettle/pseuds/AceNettle
Summary: Vetinari and Margolotta spend a Hogswatch together during the Grand Sneer. Features shopping, gifts, local politics, discussion of traditions and a snowball fight, though not necessarily in that order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and thoughts welcome!

It was Hogswatchnight, the shortest day of the year. The time you ran around doing last minute gift shopping or preparing a fancy dinner or, if you happened to live in certain localities high up in the mountains, hunting a small songbird through the woods.

In Uberwald it was also, quite incidentally, the perfect weather for snowmen.

In Lady Margolotta’s castle, Igor finished shovelling the main courtyard and gave the accumulated pile of snow a thoughtful glance.

The castle’s main occupant, meanwhile, was attending the Hogswatch market in Bonk. The narrow streets were packed with people and stalls, and any would-be observer might have predicted it would have been difficult to get a coach through. _This_ carriage had no such trouble; the crowd ahead always seemed to recall it had some _urgent_ business elsewhere, and gave way.

At the main market square the driverless carriage came to a halt. The doors swung open, and the vampire lady and her young companion stepped out.

In this particular square, amidst stalls and tents, someone had set up a tall tree. Her Ladyship studied it and sniffed.

“Vell,” she said at last. “Trust the doggies to pick a _tree._ ”

“It does seem to be quite impressive,” observed Havelock. The whole thing was decorated with straw and wrapped in tinsel. It positively shone.“Though of course, I would imagine that’s _all_ it is.”

“Hmm.” She peered from under her thick hood. “The school building looked rather rumbled, don’t you think? Ve passed it on our vay here.”

“Some of the tiles _did_ look loose,” said the Assassin, “but I’m not sure that’s - “

And then the mayor and his assistants arrived, apologizing profusely for the delay and fervently wishing that her ladyship was enjoying her visit and, hopefully, leaving soon. Margolotta’s friendly smile did nothing to set them at ease.

As the conversation shifted to the possibility of hiring the Guild of Masons to take a look at some buildings of public importance, Vetinari took the opportunity to fade into the background. He knew the value of information and was quite used to listening in on various conversations, but in this particular case, precious little could be learned that he wasn’t quite aware of already.

The main principle was quite simple, and in fact her Ladyship had explained her take of it not long after they’d first met. You couldn’t merely take, she had said, you also had to give something back. Otherwise, there would be pitchforks. And of course, the townsfolk in Bonk had quite a bit of choice in local dignitaries; you had to make sure you were no worse than the other two.

Or better, apparently. He had to admit that part of the Uberwaldian mindset puzzled him. Everyone, it seemed, was so afraid of encroaching on someone else’s territory that there was never even the merest attempt at improving anything or truly going anywhere. There was merely this… token charity of Hogswatch trees and repaired edifices. Though he supposed it was at least in the spirit of the season. Gifts, and all that.

Speaking of which…

He spotted what he was looking for after a few moments of searching.

To his understanding, the dwarves – the third faction in Bonk politics - had been quite withdrawn ever since their little – hah! - skirmish a few years ago. Indeed, he’d hardly seen any of them on his previous excursions to town. But Hogswatch market was different, or so it appeared, at any rate. There was a dwarf selling some kind of smoked meat nearby, and another with a stall of jewellery quite close to where he was standing. No silver, of course, but other precious metals as well as gemstones were plentiful.

“ _Are you buying or just looking?”_ the dark-bearded dwarf in the stall asked him in Uberwaldian.

“Hmm?”

“ _I said, do you intend to buy anything?”_

“Oh, I don’t speak Uberwaldian. Goodness me, not a word.”

The dwarf gave him a shrewd look that said quite a lot, including the words “foreigner” and “money.” It was a look that, Vetinari thought, would not have been out of place on the streets back home. Which, he supposed, just went to show you that puzzling outlook or not, people were fundamentally _people,_ no matter where you went or who they happened to be.*

“You’re from the Plains, then?”

“Ankh-Morpork.”

“Ah, one of my favourite places! I’ll have to give you a discount. So how about it? Come, now – something for that special someone?”

Havelock flashed the merchant a quick smile. “Perhaps. Though I fear she already _has_ everything she could possibly want.”

“One of those, eh? Always difficult, those -”

“Indeed.”

“- but ask yourself, lad – are any of those other things from _you?”_

He burst out laughing, and glanced over his shoulder to where Margolotta was, thankfully, still otherwise occupied. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice.

“You don’t happen to do engravings, by any chance?”

 

* * *

 

_*_ Which still didn’t mean they were all the same, of course. That would have made things _easy._


	2. Chapter 2

The snow had all but closed the roads and so the carriage ride back to Lady Margolotta’s castle took much longer than usual, but neither of the passengers minded overly much. After all, they were in no hurry.

“I fear the poor schoolmistress vas terrified,” said Lady Margolotta as the carriage rolled in through the gate. “One could hardly get a useful vord out of her. Or most of the others, for that matter.”

“Well, at least they listened,” murmured Vetinari.

“It’s alvays a problem vith the servants too, you know. Most are too afraid to stay. Or do their vork properly even if they do.”

“An inconvenience, certainly. Though finding reliable help might well be an issue in general. You waste time and effort looking for just the right people, with no success, until suddenly they turn up in the most unexpected places. Or so my aunt would have me believe, at any rate.” The carriage came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard.

“Such a fascinating voman. I vould very much like to meet her some day.”

“Mm,“ said Havelock noncommittally. He busied himself with opening the door and stepping outside. “Though speaking of servants, I _thought_ you’d given them leave for the holidays…?”

_Something_ stood in the lantern-lit gloom of the courtyard. It was made entirely out of snow, except for the two lumps of coal that were, most likely, supposed to be the eyes. A pig, decided Vetinari after a moment, or rather, a _hog_ – yes, _definitely_ a hog…

For some reason, it also appeared to have three ears.

”All except for Igor,” said Margolotta, who had followed him out. “I believe he prefers it here. Of course, he also told me he vas expecting a visit from a young relative.” She went over to the misshapen sculpture. ”Isn’t it charming?”

”They would certainly appear to have been busy,” said Havelock. Two sets of footprints, one much smaller than the other, were just visible under the freshly fallen snow.

”Did you ever build such things as a child?”

”Madam, I fear that at the Guild we were rarely encouraged to be that… creative.” He scooped up a handful of snow. “Snowball fights, on the other hand…”

Margolotta looked at him keenly over the snow hog. ”I imagine you vere quite good at them, yes?”

”I tried not to pick sides. Publicly, anyway.” He smiled. ”Of course, it _was_ a school for Assassins, and so some of the fights we had were rather… discreet.” He recalled a particularly memorable occasion involving Ludo and the unsuspecting Downey, who had never really achieved anything beyond the most rudimentary understanding of stealth. ”But of course, that was back then.” He allowed the snowball he’d fashioned to drop and wiped his hands clean. “Shall we go in?”

She appeared not to have heard him. Instead, she observed him from over the snow hog.

“Madam?”

”And now you think yourself too old for such pastimes,” she said quietly.

“Ah,” said Havelock. “Not, perhaps, quite the way I’d put it.” After all, it had not been quite _that_ many years since he’d painted Downey’s face, and claiming to be too old when talking to someone who had already outlived you by several centuries* might be seen as a little absurd, besides.

“I see. Then you’d merely like to give the appearance of being too mature.”

“And would you blame me if I did, my lady?”

“Blame you? Vhy vould I vant to do that, my dear? It vould be quite understandable, of course. Especially considering our circumstances, though I have never thought of you as a child.” She swiped loose snow off the sculpture. Her look could be best described as mischievous. “But it is still quite a vhile until midnight. Vould you vish to have some fun?”

He raised an eyebrow, and she flung the handful of snow at him. It went right past his shoulder; he didn’t even need to lean to the side to dodge it.

Despite himself, Vetinari grinned. “Your aim needs work, madam,” he said and dusted some flakes off his jacket, “as, I’m sad to say, do your snowballs.”

“Oh, really?”

She moved in a blur. That was, of course, a thing about vampires; they could be extremely fast. He dodged the three snowballs that came at him in quick succession and dived for cover behind the carriage.

When he emerged, carrying a handful of snowballs of his own, she was nowhere to be seen. But then, _another_ thing about vampires was that they could fly…

He lifted his gaze. Margolotta gave him a little wave.

She was too far away for him to actually hit her with anything as slow as a snowball. There was the option of trying to sneak up on her, of course – a tactic the Assassin’s Guild encouraged – but that was really not the best approach against a vampire.

Vetinari considered for a moment. Then he made a run for it, up the stairs to a roofed walkway atop the stables, and up.

 

* * *

 

There were certain things that were quite simply expected of a vampire. Violence. Blood-lust, of course. A good number of other, somewhat more polite things that had simply become tiresome over the years.

Hunts of quite this sort did not generally feature on the list and, as she drifted around a narrow tower, Lady Margolotta found she was quite enjoying herself.

She spotted Havelock on a ledge circling the keep. He had his back to her and, if she got very lucky, she might just get close enough to stuff snow down his collar…

Perhaps, had it been anyone else, she might have succeeded. As it was, however, Vetinari spun around at the last moment and, before she had time to notice what was happening, he’d already hurled a snowball at her. It was a dense, heavy snowball, and it struck her squarely in the chest.

There was only so much even a vampire could do when caught by surprise. Lady Margolotta yelped and went plummeting  down.

She caught herself shortly before hitting the ground. For a few moments the vampire merely hung in place. Then she straightened up and tried to regain her dignity.

A sound caught her Ladyship’s attention. She looked up and glared.

“Are you finding this amusing, Havelock?”

“Only to the extent I’d find any other misfortune so, madam. Granted,” he paused, “I guess they _are_ only funny when they happen to someone else.”

“Oh, yes? Let’s see if I can amuse _myself,_ then!”

She shot up to show him some cold, snowy _misfortune_ , but he’d already started running.

 

* * *

 

Above them, where neither the Vampire nor the Assassin could see, a jolly, fat figure in red leaned against a chimney and shook his head. Then he dug out a list.

“Igor,” he read, “and… Igor. Now, let’s see…”

There were a frantic few minutes as the figure went back to his sledge, rummaged through a sack full of packets and parcels, and then disappeared in the direction of the chimney. A short while later, he climbed back into the sledge and said a few words to his four, enormous hogs, and then man and hogs and sledge all disappeared into the sky.

 

* * *

 

Across the rooftops of Lady Margolotta’s castle, the game that had started out as a snowball fight had turned into a simple chase.

Or a pretence of one, at any rate. Havelock had no doubt that Margolotta could catch him and end this whenever she wanted to.

He had to admit there was a certain feeling of camaraderie to be found in this sort of activity. On the other hand, it was not what he’d have called particularly engaging, and while he was generally impassive in the face of the elements, he also did not particularly enjoy the feeling of wet snow seeping into his boots.

“Margolotta,” he called.

There was no answer.

“Don’t you think this has gone on long enough, madam?”

He spotted her standing on the alure ahead of him, blocking his way.

“You only need to give up, Havelock,” Lady Margolotta said. Vetinari wasn’t particularly surprised; he hadn’t thought she’d be any more willing to yield the game than, indeed, he was.

“Quite. Or alternatively, I should think, to get back down.”

She yawned. “If you vish.”

“Surely you’re not still angry with me, madam?” Vetinari took another turn, but Lady Margolotta flew to obstruct his way again. Now the only way on was up, though by now they had _also_ circled back close to the courtyard where they’d started…

“Sorry? You think I vould  really get angry over a mere game? Certainly not!”

“Of course.” He made a dash for another set of stairs, climbed over a balcony railing and jumped down on a snow-covered roof.

A snow-covered, slippery roof.

He lost his footing and his balance. In an instant, a hand reached out for his arm. At the last second he twisted and pulled, and then he and the vampire were both falling, though rather more gracefully than gravity would have allowed.

Havelock landed on his back in the snow. Lady Margolotta inspected him worriedly.

“Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine, madam. Not so much as a bruise.”

“You should have been more careful. Vhat vere you thinking, rushing off like that?”

“Yes, I should know better than to fall off a roof. How very clumsy of me.”

“Oh, I _see_ ,” said Margolotta. Her eyes flashed. “Do you even realise how dangerous that vas? You could have been injured -”

“But I _was not.”_

“If I had not caught you -”

“Madam, I had full faith in you, _”_ said Vetinari.

She said nothing, but there was a rather strange look on her face. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

“This has certainly been… invigorating,” he said, “but -”

Then Lady Margolotta kissed him. There was nothing very gentle about it; you could almost call it… hungry.

When she pulled back, he eyed her quizzically.

“Madam?”

Abruptly, she got up and headed for the doors. Vetinari stood more slowly. He felt that it was probably best to give her a few moments to compose herself.

He caught up with her by the carriage. The black horses, still harnessed to it, stood unnaturally still. Lady Margolotta was stroking the nose of one of them.

“Igor vill be around shortly to see to them, I’m sure,” she said brightly. “Ve, on the other hand, should go back in -”

“And see about dinner?”

“And _change_ , I vould have said,” Lady Margolotta held up her gloves which were, indeed, wet, “but that too, certainly.”

 

* * *

 

* Merely an estimate, of course, as he’d not yet managed to figure out quite how old she was. Or all that much about her background in general, for that matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Midnight feasts on Hogswatch night were not something vampires were expected to do; it was tacitly understood that this was one night they should leave the sky free for certain… others. But Lady Margolotta was nothing if not a gracious host.

“The cook vould seem to have left you vell provided vith sausage,” she said to Havelock, studying the larder, “though there also seem to be several different types of pies, and the fruit, I believe, is all the vay from Genua… And of course there is also thclot, and some other things that I’m told are local delicacies…”

“Some, I fear, are an acquired taste.”

“Often one and the same, I’ve been given to understand. Of course, I have no personal experience vith most of them. Drinks?”

 

* * *

 

They had a nice, if rather light dinner,  after which they retired in the sitting room for a quiet game of Thud! and some reading, the latter of which turned out to be anything but quiet.

”In the beginning of the third chapter,” said Vetinari, “he writes, and I quote: ‘Lastly, superstition is a distraction and a waste of time. Consider how on certain days you may not engage in certain activities; entire days will be wasted in this fashion. This may not seem like much, but it is obvious that if this continues year after year and decade after decade, a significant amount of time is used entirely unproductively…’ and yet, but a chapter later he argues the opposite, though this time in regards to tradition. Here – ‘some consider tradition a waste of time, and it is true our yearly observances interrupt our routines. But in truth only a few days here and there are spent in this fashion, which can hardly be considered to make a difference.’ Which would all be understandable were he to argue that in one instance, the time is well spent and in another, that it is not, but in fact you’ll find he says no such thing.”

“Unfortunate, but not atypical,” said Margolotta. “I recall something very similar in many of his earlier works.”

”Indeed? It does make one wonder how a man of such sharp mind can possibly suffer the same pitfalls in his arguments over and over.”

“It must be a gift, I’m sure.”

“I have to concur,” said Havelock, and snapped the book shut. “Though on that topic, madam…”

There was some rustling of clothes, and then Vetinari handed her Ladyship a small, rectangular box. It was wrapped in paper and tied with a string.

Lady Margolotta picked the parcel up delicately. “I am flattered, of course. Though I admit I vas not avare ve vere exchanging presents.”

Vetinari shrugged. “It just seemed… appropriate. A sudden bout of sentimentality, if you will.”

A dagger appeared in Lady Margolotta’s hand. She cut the string open in one smooth stroke, removed the paper and opened the box.

There was a glint of metal and gemstone. She pulled out a length of chain and held up a ruby-adorned locket. It spun gently in her grasp, the stone shone red in the firelight.

“You like it, I trust?” Havelock prompted.

She glanced at him. “I do have plenty of jewellery already, you know. It does add up over the years.”

“Of course, if you’d rather not accept it…” he said. His voice was light, but there was something… keen in his eyes. She found she quite liked the look.

“No,” she said. Her eyes caught the details of the glinting necklace. “I’ll hold onto it, I think. But unfortunately I have nothing set aside for you. Unless you’d like a book.”

“I fear I have had enough thoughts from strangers for tonight, madam. Although… perhaps you’d care to tell me a story?”

“Vell. That is not something I’m asked to do very often, I have to admit. You’d accept that as a gift?”

“Why not?” He was quiet for a while. “How about… tell me of the first Hogswatch you recall.”

There was another, an even longer pause. “It vas quite a long time ago, you know,” said Lady Margolotta finally. “The customs back then vere… different. Barely recognizable, these days.“

“So -”

“There vas a lot more clanging, for one thing.” There had been; spears hitting shields, the ringing sound of metal, a welcoming crowd…

A man, dragged to the center of the village. Standing, then collapsing, bleeding on the cold ground. He’d not gotten up again.

Red and white. So much blood, in all that snow…

The vampire shook her head. “And quite a bit of other superstitious nonsense. But that isn’t vhat you actually vanted to know.”

“And what do you think I wanted to know, madam?”

She hesitated. Like most vampires, she could read people quite well, but Vetinari was still often a mystery.

She settled for “why don’t you tell me.”

He did. Lady Margolotta laughed, and obliged.

 

* * *

 

Igor hummed quietly as he limped along a long corridor. Hogswatch Day tended to put him in a good mood. You were remembered by your family and looked after them in return, beside which it was the beginning of the holidays and there weren’t all that many duties to attend to – an excellent thing if you had just received some new lab equipment you were eager to test.

He knocked at the sitting room door, waited for the ensuing “yes?” and went in.

“I brought breakfatht, mithtreth, marthter,” he said brightly, and set the tray down on a small table next to the couch.

“Thank you, Igor,” said her Ladyship. “Your night vent vell, I trust?”

“Yeth, mithtreth, thank you for athking. My thithter thent thome lovely kidney pieth with her thon. I’m looking forward to trying them!”

“And young Igor? I understand he had some difficulties at home, yes?”

“Happy ath a clam now, mithtreth! He wath up and about ath thoon ath the thky thtarted turning blue and tore right into hith prethenth! Now he hath hith nothe glued right to hith new Brain Builder 3000 thet!”

“Really?”

“Not literally, mithtreth. _Thith time_ I locked away the glue!”

 

* * *

 

After Igor had puttered off, Lady Margolotta stood up and went to the window.

“And so the sun rises again,” she said, “and the world has failed to end.”

“And without anyone having been killed and bled for it,” said Havelock, next to her. She gave him a sharp look. “In these parts, at least,” he amended.

Lady Margolotta pulled the curtains shut. Vetinari handed her a glass and lifted his own mug of steaming tea.

“To a new year,” said her Ladyship.

“And new challenges,” said Havelock. “I suspect it will be… interesting.”

She smiled sadly, and her fingers brushed the locket. She went to the door.

“Of that, my dear,” said Margolotta, “I have no doubt.”

 

 

 

(A drawing of the ruby necklace. The neclace has the text “To Many More Tomorrows, - Havelock” engraved on it.)


End file.
